


My Muse in You

by NekoIzumi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Derek, Confident Stiles, Hale Family Feels, Humor, M/M, Sassy Peter, Waste of coffee, Werewolves, author!derek, pianist!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoIzumi/pseuds/NekoIzumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had always been awkward around people. He never knew what to say or how to say it or what to do or how to react around and to people. Especially if they came onto him which happened far too often for his comfort. Considering he didn’t even know why they aimed for him it only added to the problem. And then he ran into Stiles and learned that maybe, just maybe, being shy and silent and awkward wasn't such a bad thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer; I don’t own Teen Wolf, I don’t want to. Neither do I profit from writing this fic.

Derek had always been awkward around people. He never knew what to say or how to say it or what to do or how to react around and to people. Especially if they came onto him which happened far too often for his comfort. Considering he didn’t even know why they aimed for him it only added to the problem. Actually, after the mess with the blonde stalker he rarely interacted with people outside family at all, at least not if he could avoid it. Which was why he loved his job and it fitted him so well.

 

As a bestselling author Derek could sit in his loft with his laptop and just type. He could open the large windows to let the light in along with the sounds and smells of the city and do what he loved doing most, writing his precious novels. His sisters had laughed at him, hard, until he kindly reminded them that his ‘cheap’ works brought in more than they could spend. And they weren’t cheap because he had a whole shelf full with awards and prizes and ridiculous glass-sculptures thank you very much. They hadn’t mentioned it again. They _had_ mentioned something else though. His single-status. And they kept on needling him about it too.

 

Derek had as a matter-of-factly pointed out that Laura was single too, **and** the oldest, but that hadn’t stopped his mother from asking about grandchildren. That had been his cue to come out of the closet… and everybody had taken that as a sign to set him up with their gay or borderline gay or assumed gay friends. It hadn’t been a sign, it wasn’t a sign and it never would be a sign but at least they had laid off the talks about ‘the sound of small feet’ and things had calmed down even more when Cora went back to college and Laura was transferred to San Francisco. He should feel bad for being so relieved they were gone but nah, not really.

 

Derek breathed in the chilly morning air as he stepped out of his apartment building and turned to take the 2 minute walk to the coffee shop a bit further down across the street. He abhorred capsule coffee with every bone in his body and he would much rather hire a live-in barista than ever buy one of those pesky machines, regardless of what Cora said. Cora drank seemingly anything even remotely resembling coffee but Derek did not and gods, he could smell the wonderful brew already!

 

He jogged the last few feet, pulled open the door and-… immediately hissed when the black gold in someone else’s paper cup came in close contact with his chest through the thin henley he wore… followed by a wind milling mass of limbs sending them both to a date with the hard sidewalk.

“Oh gods! I'm so sorry, are you hurt, you suddenly opened the door and I wasn’t prepared and now I've ruined your shirt and I'll pay for dry-cleaning if you give me your details, or maybe I should give you mine, and oh gods, are you hurt!?”

Whoa… that’s a lot to get out on only one breath of air.

 

Warm, and slightly worried, whiskey-brown eyes blinked owlishly at him from behind black rimmed glasses. The other man’s, young man’s, mouth was slightly open and next to it were the most lickable constellation of moles Derek had ever seen. Pale skin, so so pretty pale skin, hair standing on end under all directions under the sun and-… he was leaning closer, straddling Derek on all fours as he was, frowning now. “Dude, are you alright?”

His voice was lower than the slender build gave credit for. “Did you hit your head? Can you hear me?” And now he was looking genuinely concerned. Shit.

 

“’mfine.” Derek mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears burn already.

“Are you sure?” came the immediate question.

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “I'm fine. Off!” And he didn’t even stutter! Yay!

The guy scampered off his perch but held out a hand to help Derek up. And Derek couldn’t stop staring.

Long, slender, pale fingers, dotted with the occasional mole… and so soft to the touch when his brain finally kicked into gear and he grabbed it to be hauled to his feet. **So** soft!

“Do you like my hands?”

Horrified, Derek looked up, realizing he zoned out in the middle of a busy street, stroking the soft skin under his thumb.

 

But the guy didn’t sound freaked out and neither had he let go of Derek's hand. In fact, he was smiling, not grinning, _smiling_ , at him. Looking into those eyes the colour of a really good year Derek only manages a nod, earning a softer smile.

“You’re a shy one, aren’t you?”

And that’s the sound of Derek Thomas Hale falling like a pine tree for a complete stranger on an early Wednesday morning.

 

“Hey, I'm really sorry about your shirt, are you sure you're okay? You didn’t get burnt?”

“’m okay.”

“Thank god! I'm Stiles by the way.” Stiles shook Derek's hand… that he _still_ hadn’t let go of. “How about I buy you a coffee and breakfast as an apology? Have you eaten yet? Also, I have a spare sweater in my bag, I'm the freezy kind, so you can borrow that so I can take your shirt home and wash it for you? Although mine probably will be a bit small on you.”

“Derek.” Derek's brain finally caught up with him. “’s okay, I live close by.” He got his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. It tingled.

“Does that mean I don’t get to buy you breakfast?” Stiles asked, frowning again. Then he blinked as something hit him. “Oh shit! You're on your way to work, aren’t you!? I'm so sorry, standing here wasting your time, I’ll just scribble my name and address down so you can send me the bill and I'll pay for-”

“Coffee.” Derek managed to press out, only verging on panic. “I'm hungry.”

Stiles blinked at him again, midsearch for pen and paper… and smiled in a way that made Derek's toes curl. Then he closed the bag, opened the door and stepped aside.

“After you.”

 

-

 

Stiles could slap himself. Really, this guy, with a body and face that would make Michelangelo weep with inability to capture the beauty, is so adorable and sweet and shy that Stiles could probably barf rainbows and get cavities from all the cute. With such a perfect guy, of course Stiles slams into him, spills his coffee on him and won’t let him get a word in edgewise, just like some damn cliché. The man probably regrets agreeing to breakfast already so yeah, Stiles could slap himself.

 

The man in front of him looks good enough to eat and in Stiles’ grey sweater he's delicious enough to lick like a treat. He makes Stiles’ mouth salivate and it’s so unfair because that damn sweater had never looked like that on Stiles.

“So, Derek.” he says, not knowing what the name rolling off his tongue does to the Hale. “What do you do for a living?”

“Write.”

“Novels?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so cool!” Stiles leaned forward slightly. “What genre? Anything I know?”

“I doubt it.” Derek mumbled, feeling a bit more confident hiding behind his coffee mug. Derek wrote romance, the deep heart wrenching kind with synced heartbeats and longing gazes and sweet lovemaking that ended in happily ever afters. Stiles looked like someone who preferred Franz Kafka or Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Assuming he even knew what a book was that is. Derek was crap at reading people as history had so generously taught him the hard way.

 

Stiles grimaced behind his own ridiculously large cup. “Don’t tell me you write horror because I don’t touch that shit.”

“No.” Derek dared a little smile.” No horror.” Then he blinked. “What?”

The Stilinski looked a bit dazed. “Do that again.” he said.

“Do what?”

“Smile.”

 

Of course that’s the surest way to wipe the tiny smile off… and replace it with an embarrassed blush instead. Derek suddenly wanted to flee. A hand on his though stopped him before his butt could even leave the chair. Stiles might as well have shackled him to the wall.

“I'm sorry, I'm a dick.” He grimaced again. “Sometimes I forget that not everybody babbles when they're nervous. I apologize, I made you uncomfortable.” He swallowed hard. “I just think it’s pretty, your smile.”

Yeah, because that really helped Derek's blush go down so much faster.

“’s not.” the Hale pressed out, not being able to look the other in the face. If his sisters saw him now he'd never live it down because yeah, he really was that awkward around people.

 

Stiles only smiled though. He hadn’t moved his hand away from Derek's and his fingers, those wonderful fingers were whispering in under the sleeve of the sweater to stroke over the thin skin there. Derek's entire arm was tingling. And that’s when their food came and he removed his hand leaving the Hale feeling oddly robbed.

“I was thinking about grabbing a burger or something on my way but this is so much better. Thanks for not making me stress this morning, even if I accidentally splashed you in coffee.” he babbled while grabbing fork and knife and digging into his tomato and mozzarella grilled sandwich. He groaned out loud around the first bite not knowing Derek was mentally whimpering at the sound. “I work just a few blocks away from here but they’ve got the best coffee here so I always end up coming here for my breakfast fix instead of getting that dishwater crap at Starbucks.”

 

“What do you do? For a living I mean?” the Hale said lowly before putting a piece of mushroom omelette in his mouth. It earned him a sly little smile, making him raise an eyebrow.

“I'm a musician.”

“In a band?”

Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, in a band.”

 

Derek blinked. Stiles’ heartbeat hadn’t skipped a beat per say… but it had done something. So what did that mean? He did play something… but not in a band?

“Which instrument?”

“Piano.”

“Oh. I like piano. Very calming.”

Now Stiles was the one to look at him funny. And then he snorted on a laugh. “Yup, indeed.”

“Did I say something funny?”

“No! I'm just saying that you're right, piano is very soothing. You listen to it on CDs and stuff?”

“I don’t really listen that much to music. I like the silence.”

“So you can write?”

Derek nodded. “It helps me focus.”

“You’re one of those. I need noise when I work, if it’s too silent I start to think about a bunch of stuff and I can’t stop and then I don’t get any work done so I need noise, like this café or headphones in my ears.”

“I’d go crazy.”

The Stilinski smiled at him again.

“Nothing wrong with that, we’re all different.”

 

They ate in silence for a while after that, both munching on their own food and both in deep thought. But for once the silence wasn’t a comfortable one for Derek. He felt misplaced and so very awkward because here he had someone that didn’t mind that he was quiet and shy and sure, they had only known each other for less than 30 minutes… but Derek really liked Stiles and his smell made him feel oddly at home. He flinched when Stiles’ phone rang.

“Sorry, gotta take this.” the Stilinski mumbled lowly before answering with a tired, “Yeaup?”

 

Derek tried not to eavesdrop, he really did, but when you're curious and you have enhanced hearing… yeah, it it’s not easy to just **not** listen in. He continued on with his omelette and coffee while trying to look as if he wasn’t hearing every word.

_‘Where are you, Stiles? We’re all here already.’_

“I ran into a guy with my coffee and treated him to breakfast in apology. You can start without me.”

_‘So you're eating… real breakfast food instead of something fried?’_

“I'm having a toast with tomato and cheese.” Stiles rolled his eyes at the comment. “There’s even salad.”

_‘I have to thank that guy, whoever he is, for making you eat something that isn’t a burger or leftover pizza for breakfast. If you can, steal his salad too. If he has any.’_

“I can’t do that!”

_‘You can try. Anyways, take your time. If you're actually eating something non-fried I'm more than willing to let you come in late.’_ the voice sniggered.

“I'm not late! I'm not supposed to be there until-,” He checked his wristwatch. And paled. “Oh, shit! I'll be right there!”

_‘NO! Sit your ass back down on whatever you're sitting on and eat your greens! We’ll warm up and go over the program without you.’_

“But-”

_‘No buts, Stiles. See you later.’_ And then the other hung up leaving the Stilinski to grumble as he put away his phone.

“Weirdo.” he muttered. “I don’t eat **that** bad.”

“Problems?”

“Wha-? No, no problems. Just my boss saying he's letting me take my time coming in. Are you going to eat that?” He nodded to the vegetables on Derek's plate that may or may not have been left on purpose.

“No.” He pushed the plate closer. “You like vegetables?”

“I don’t mind veggies, I like some more than others but I guess I like everybody else need to eat them.” he shrugged while stabbing a piece of cucumber with his fork. “As long as it’s not brussel sprouts I'll eat it.”

Derek winced. He didn’t exactly like them either, more for the stench than the taste though.

He glanced at the younger man, saw him mutter around a mouthful of greens and decided to at least try. If he crashed and burned then he wouldn’t leave the apartment for a year and find a new favourite café.

“Can I see you again?”

 

Stiles looked up, blinking.

“Are you asking me out?”

Derek wanted to choke and die. He nodded ignoring his burning ears… and face.

“Awesome! I was just wondering how I’d go about asking you.” came the grinned answer. “When? Where? Want me to come here or will you pick me up at my place?”

 

-

 

Derek might be ridiculously shy and introvert around strangers… but he was everything but withdrawn around his family.

“Mom! Teddy has gone through my room again!” he growled the second he stepped into his childhood bedroom back at his parents’ house. He had 4 siblings, Laura that was older, and Cora, Teddy and Sam that were younger. They were all a pain in his ass, especially when his brothers decided that they could go through Derek's things without him there to stop him. He didn’t have much in there seeing as he had his own apartment but it was still the place where he slept when he was at home and he didn’t like anyone in there without permission. Even his parents stayed out because someone's bedroom is still someone's bedroom.

As expected a loud growl followed from downstairs. The boys hadn’t really learned certain boundaries yet.

 

He sighed heavily silently wondering why he even agreed to these damn family dinners anymore. All that happened was that his family ganged up on him trying to humiliate him. Usually succeeding as well.

He was just stepping out of his jeans when his phone announced an incoming message and he grinned before he had even reached his phone. That signal was for a certain person alone in his, admittedly, rather poor contact list.

**_‘Breakfast tomorrow?’_ **

Smiling like a loon the beta immediately sent a _‘sure!’_ back. He got a reply a minute later.

**_‘I'll grab a table. When will you be there?’_ **

_‘I'll be there around 8.’_

**_‘Sweet. What are you having, I'll order.’_ **

_‘Large coffee with 2 sugars.’_

**_‘Food?’_ **

_‘Surprise me. Something with salad.’_

**_‘8[’_ **

 

Derek chuckled at the emoticon he got back, knowing it was because he wouldn’t finish the salad and that Stiles would ask if he could finish it for him. Sap or not, Derek liked the familiarity of it.

“What are _you_ grinning about?”

 

Derek turned around with a roar, literally picking his sibling up and throwing him back out through the door which he had sauntered in. Everybody knew that the second oldest of the Hale-siblings was of a calm and gentle nature, everybody also knew that unless you were personally invited into the room in which he sleeps, he’ll turned into a beast to get you out. It was a mystery to the entire pack why the fates had blessed Derek with such ruggedly handsome looks that willing mates lined up for him when he was such a recluse too. Really, he was the complete opposite compared to the rest of the extrovert and noisy family and more than once both sides had wondered whether or not he wasn’t adopted.

 

“Mom! Derek threw me into a wall again!” Teddy whined loudly, scampering down the stairs whining loudly while the older Hale simply slammed the door and locked it. He heard his mother’s voice, muffled through the wood of the door, growl that if either of the younger boys went into Derek's room again she’d rip them apart herself… because their older brother was _sensitive._

 

Derek cringed hearing that. He wasn’t sensitive at all, he had just developed major trust issues where his siblings were concerned since he was 5 years old and Laura had locked him in his room where she had planted a stink bomb 2 seconds prior.

 

His phone dinged again just as he was about to get into the shower. Stiles.

**_‘So looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Bashful <3’_ **

If Derek blushed over the nickname and the little heart, and if the shower was hotter than usual, well, then no one was none the wiser.

 

-

 

Granted, that didn’t mean he didn’t blush like a maiden the next day when he saw Stiles again and was greeted with a quick hug. Too quick, and not tight enough.

“Hello there, apple of my eye.” Stiles grinned taking perverse pleasure in the pink on cheekbones sharp enough to cut oneself on. “How was your family weekend? Fun? Sorry about last week, man, my schedule is crazy these days what with rehearsals and practice and stuff. By the way, here's your shirt.” He handed over a plastic bag. “Squeaky clean and ironed, just for you.”

“I've come to the conclusion that I'm related to two little demons and that I'm seriously considering hiring an exorcist.” Derek rolled his eyes, accepting the bag and putting it on the sofa next to him. He absentmindedly wondered if Stiles had worn it before handing it back, then their coffee and food came and he nodded at the girl with barely a glance. He had had breakfast with Stiles every morning since they met and he was now comfortable enough to speak without stuttering. Most of the time. “Also, family dinners aren’t **fun** , they're a social construct, solely planned to torture and humiliate _me_.”

“Big family, huh?” the Stilinski chuckled, digging into his fish soup. Not exactly breakfast food but who cares? It was still healthier than a piece of cow on a dry bun. Opposite him Derek hummed over his chicken salad.

“There’re so many branches on our family tree that I've forgotten names of members.”

“Oh, you're having trouble in paradise, handsome?” Stiles cooed.

“Don’t call me handsome.”

“Gorgeous?”

“No.”

“Hot?”

“No.”

“Purrty?”

“No!”

“…beautiful?”

“Gods, no.” the Hale whimpered hiding his face in his hands. “You can’t say stuff like that to me.”

“Stuff like what? It’s an honest opinion.”

 

Derek knew it was an honest opinion, which is why he blushed even harder, the red reaching down his neck now. But Stiles was on a roll and in no mood to stop now.

“I have eyeballs, you know, and although they require glasses they serve me well. _You_ , my friend, look like a model from an ad for expensive cologne and trust me, every time you come in here the blonde behind the counter burns herself on the milk steamer. If you ever ordered latte I'm sure she’d bend over backwards to give you the best latte art to ever art.”

 

And sure, when he looked up the girl in question meep’ed and dropped the change she was handing a customer. “See?”

“That just means she's attracted to a face.” he muttered sourly.

Stiles merely lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want to go there? Really?”

“No, not really. Don’t go there.”

“Good decision, dude, because when it comes to arguments and discussing I’d kick your ass.”

 

Hazel green eyes narrowed as Derek finished chewing what he had in his mouth and swallowed.

“I double majored in English lit and history, Stiles.” he said calmly. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Oh, the look in those whiskey coloured eyes was a blatant challenge. The wolf within stirred, suddenly eager to accept. And win.

“Choose a subject, precious.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Of course. Which drama, honeybun?”

“Romeo and Juliet. Good or bad ending?”

“Crap ending, sweetcheeks. I could’ve eaten alpha bits and crapped out a better ending.”

“See, I don’t agree.”

Stiles smiled slyly. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

 

-

 

They had breakfast every morning that week and every day both were late for work. Neither cared much.

They discussed everything from history to science to politics to art and movies and food, they talked and laughed about themselves and each other and about their aspirations. Derek found out that Stiles played in smoky jazz clubs a few times a week because he loved the atmosphere and the musicians simply jamming together, Stiles found out that Derek sometimes used pole dancing to work out because it was so physically demanding. They had both grinned at the horrified expression on the old man’s face that sat next to them that particular morning.

 

“By the way, I have this weekend off.” Stiles said lowly, licking his lips nervously. “Want to have breakfast with me?” He blushed prettily. “Like, maybe as a continuation from a late dinner in bed or something? Maybe?”

“Yes!” Derek could’ve bit his tongue off because that came out way too fast. “I mean,” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’d love to.” He blushed like a stop sign. “No food in bed though.”

“No, lets save the sheets for a different kind of-… _mess._ ” the Stilinski grinned now. Suddenly he rose to his feet leaning over the table… and leaned into Derek's personal space. “Can I?” he asked softly, a mere breath away from the Hale’s face.

 

Derek didn’t answer, instead he closed the distance and revelled in Stiles’ soft lips against his. He tasted so good and he kissed so well and although Derek surprisingly enough wasn’t a virgin, he had never been kissed like _this._ Like it actually pained Stiles to break away for air the one second he moved the tilt his head the other way. He moaned softly, licking his lips as if to get the last of Derek when he flopped back into his chair.

“Mmm.” he murmured. “So worth waiting for.”

 

Derek was wrecked already… and he had only been kissed! If they actually ended up in bed-… oh lord of everything holy, they were going to end up in bed. How the hell was he supposed to survive that!? Stiles’ wonderful hands **on** him! He was so screwed! He swallowed hard.

“Yeah…” Oops. Raspy voice. It earned him a smile though.

“Dinner on Friday then and after that dessert at your place?” The Stilinski looked at him as if _he_ was the dessert. “I'll make sure we've got chocolate ice-cream.”

Derek only nodded… knowing he was going to clean his loft from ceiling to floor as soon as he came home.


	2. Chapter Two

He did clean manically. For two days. Dusting, vacuuming, mopping, washing, cleaning and stowing stuff away in the spare room where he stored everything he didn’t need on a daily basis, like that damn pole, the dumbbells, his two large suitcases, and a box of old baseball stuff that he hadn’t used in years. He had washed _all_ windows in and out, scrubbed the bathroom, watered all plants, well, _trees_ really at this point, and changed his sheets. He had stored lube and condoms in the nightstand and knowing it was there and he may get to use it had kept him from sleeping the first night after he had put it there.

Gods, he couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles’ mouth and hands and Stiles’ mouth and hands **on** him and-! He had masturbated more than a horny teenager.

 

Kissing Stiles over breakfast every morning that week hadn’t helped, at all… and smelling arousal on the Stilinski didn’t help either. Derek had choked on his coffee the day before when Stiles came in to the café, a bit late, and smelled like lust and spunk and contentment. He had apparently rubbed one out before going to see Derek. Stiles should be grateful there had been a blessedly opaque table between them that time, Derek certainly had been. But today was date-day, night, evening, today was their _date_ , and although they had had breakfast this morning the Hale was ridiculously giddy to see Stiles again. It was a bit pathetic actually.

 

So now he stood there, waiting outside the coffee shop where they'd agreed to meet before going to Derek's apartment, eager… and nervous as hell. What if he changed his mind? What if he wasn’t interested in Derek after all? What if Derek's shy nature and problems with actually speaking his mind chased Stiles away? Because Stiles was a brilliant shining star with a contagious laughter and warm eyes that really saw you when they looked at you while Derek was the awkward grumpy guy often mistaken for a bouncer or crime lord. Derek wanted to cry.

 

“Why so glum, chum?”

Pure luck was what stopped him from wolfing out and attacking when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle from behind, a large bouquet in one hand. Stiles smiled at him when the Hale looked over his shoulder, grateful for recognizing his scent in time… only he must've seen _something_ because the smile slowly slid off. “I'm sorry, did I scare you?” he asked unsurely. “Is it too much PDA?” Looking a little worried he moved away but strong hands gripped his wrists and pulled him back flush against the broad back.

“I wasn’t prepared.” Derek mumbled feeling his ears burn already. “What’s with the flowers?”

“Well, I'm raised old school **and** I'm a hard-core romantic so when I go on a date I always make sure to bring something.” The arms squeezed a little. “Chocolate is meh, because you know, allergies and stuff. You never know if someone has them. Wine is meh because it’s so cliché and you don’t know what they like, if they even like wine and there are so many different kinds, red, white, rose and all those, but _flowers_ are a sure card because everybody likes flowers and if you had had any allergies then you would’ve reacted to the ones at the coffee shop.”

“Those are plastic, Stiles.”

“You’re ruining my groove.” The Stilinski rose to his very tippy toes to press a kiss to a stubbled slightly pink cheek. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” the wolf grumbled. “Lots.”

 

“That’s just awesome. So why don’t we go to your place like planned, put those in water and spend the rest of the night making out?”

Derek didn’t need to see the grin to know it was there, he could hear it in the Stilinski's voice.

 

With the bouquet in one hand and the other over Stiles’ hands over his lower abdomen, Derek simply took a step forward and continued walking. Behind him, walking in step with the taller male, the brunet more or less whimpered into a strong shoulder. “Too cute!” he pressed out. “I want to put you in my pocket and carry you with me always.”

“Like me then.” the Hale admitted. “I feel lonely when you're not there.” And he did. Stiles’ constant chatter and energy made Derek feel empty and dull when Stiles wasn’t there to fill him with sound and colour. He who had loved silence had come to rely on noise. How peculiar.

 

They camel-walked all the way to Derek's apartment building, inside the elevator, down the short foyer and through the front door while Stiles continued to cling to the larger frame humming softly every other step. Only once inside did the Stilinski let go of him to kiss his cheek again and look around after he had taken his shoes off.

 

“Whoa… I always wondered what these apartments looked like.” he mumbled, eyeing the intricate spiral staircase going up to the master bedroom and en suite. The downstairs was basically one huge open plan living room/kitchen with what he assumed was a guestroom on one side of the shallow hallway and a bathroom on the other and a large study opposite the kitchen. The huge windows offered a great view of the city lights and the crackling fire in the fireplace made it feel surprisingly homey. It was obvious to anyone with eyeballs that it was a luxurious apartment… with luxurious furniture.

 

Stiles swallowed hard taking in the breath-taking modern glass chandelier over the dining table, the state of the art kitchen, beautiful vases, figurines, lamps and lush plants standing on exquisite carpets. “For the record, I'm a bit of a klutz, as you already know, so anything you **really** don’t want accidentally broken you should probably bubble wrap and keep away from me.” He made sure to keep his arms to his sides and refused to move an inch. “If I **do** break something, in which case I’d like to apologize in advance, I promise you to sell one of my kidneys to pay for whatever damage I've caused.” There wasn’t a single piece of plastic in the apartment, except maybe the entertainment system and the bigass TV… and perhaps some components in the microwave and fridge/freezer combo.

 

Derek snorted while putting the flowers in a delicate crystal vase. No roses but rather lilies, carnations, lilies of the valley, gardenias, amaryllises and magnolias, even jasmine. And all white.

“Don’t be ridiculous, as if anything in here is worth that much.”

He didn’t see the Stilinski giving his china cabinet a wide berth on his way to the kitchen.

“I have a hard time imagining anything in here coming from Ikea.” he muttered to himself more than the other, not knowing the Hale could hear it clearly. “That chandelier alone is probably worth more than my apartment.”

 

Putting the vase on a small pedestal by the windows, Derek turned to the uncomfortable brunet with a frown.

“Does my home intimidate you?”

“No.”

_Lie._

“It’s just that I don’t really live like this, how to put it, I travel a lot so I basically live out of my suitcase and because of that I live in a crap apartment when I'm home.” Stiles shrugged. “That combined with my ‘natural grace’ makes me in this place an accident to happen because you’ve got a lot of pretty things here.” He pressed out a smile. “Some of us don’t move like sexy ballet dancers, ya know?”

“I don’t do ballet.” _‘Pole dancing for the sake of exercise doesn’t count!’_

“But you do something.” Stiles winked coming closer now, wary of carpet edges mind you. “Don’t think I haven’t watched you, you move with this-” He waved absentmindedly. “-almost _feral_ grace, you know? Like a sexy animal.”

“…a sexy animal.” Derek parroted, on the verge of panic. _‘He knows! How does he know!?’_

“Yeah, you’ve got the grace of a cat, dude.”

“I don’t like cats.” _‘Thank you, brain.’_ Seriously? **That’s** his answer?

 

Stiles blinked at him, a breath away from a kiss… and started laughing. Leaning his forehead against Derek's collarbone he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

“No? Then come up with something better.”

The Hale admittedly did _not_ pout.

“Werewolf.” he muttered. “Graceful like a werewolf.”

“Well, we have a problem then, Sourwolf.” the Stilinski grinned wrapping his arms around Derek's neck to come closer, as closer as he could while still decent. “Because I can’t be the Beauty to your Beast.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone like you doesn’t need someone like me for that.”

“You’re pretty.”

“And you're gorgeous. Catch my drift?”

“What if I don’t want a Beauty?” Derek frowned, slightly distracted by flecks of gold and bronze in those warm _warm_ whiskey coloured eyes. “What if I want Witty? Or Spazzy? Or Flaily?”

 

The kiss that earned him was sweet and gentle. “You’re too sweet for words, Sourwolf.” Stiles mumbled softly. He took a careful step back else he'd do something stupid, like jump the Hale’s bones in his kitchen. “Are we making dinner or are we ordering something? I'm starving.”

“I-… I was going to cook?” Okay, it didn’t matter that it had been a downright chaste kiss, Derek's head was still spinning. He was in love, so sue him.

“I’ll help.”

 

-

 

An hour and a half later found them sitting by the table, content and laughing over their second glass of white wine. Derek had planned on preparing red meat but had somehow ended up doing salmon in the oven instead. Add to that the potatoes with pepper and sea salt and a fresh salad with capers and you get a moaning Stilinski praising your cooking.

“Wait, let me get this straight. You _cook_ when you're _bored?_ ” Stiles shook his head, taking another sip of his wine. “And you work out. Wow, you’ve given me enough reasons to hate you right there. I hate working out.”

“But not eating.”

“Pfft.” came the answer to that. “Call me next time you're bored. I'm sure I'll scarf down anything you make… or just let me sit in a corner and get dehydrated from drooling while watching you work that pole.”

“Deal.” Derek raised an eyebrow over his own glass. “So between gigs at various clubs and playing games, what do you do for fun?”

 

“I read. Mostly comics, but there's this one author that I like and I own like all of his books, I shit you not. I have a whole shelf at home and I can’t even remember how many times I've read his stuff. Usually though I just go over to Scott’s place or he comes to mine and we have movie marathons and stuff. Very mature for our age.”

“What kind of books do you read?”

Stiles blushed a brilliant red, clearing his throat before sipping more wine.

“Ah, a little bit of everything.” he said. “Dramas but also some fantasy and sci-fi and stuff.”

“By which author?” He'd have to check them out if he didn’t already know their work.

“Rather than talking about books,” the brunet murmured lowly while pushing Derek's chair away from the table… and straddling him. “What’s for dessert?”

 

Strong hands automatically moved to the Stilinski's ass to hold on and squeeze, earning him a low moan right into Derek's mouth. Gods, he had kissed Stiles daily for over a week now but that was nothing compared to this slow exploration of mouths and hot breath and duelling tongues. It was almost filthy how the smaller man ground his hips down against the growing bulge under him, how he ran his hands through thick black hair earning low groans and how he sucked on Derek's tongue like it would kill him not to… but it was oh so good.

“Bed.” he managed to press out between kisses. “I want… bed… now.” He was so hard, so turned on and he wanted Derek naked and inside him and he wanted to come and touch and kiss **everywhere.**

 

So naturally, that’s when the phone rang.

 

They blinked at each other, slightly out of breath and dazed.

“You should get that. At this time of day it’s probably important.”

“It better be.” Derek very nearly growled while picking up the phone and returning to his seat, silently pleased that Stiles did the same. “Derek here.” he gruffed.

_‘Darling, I just saw that you're not coming tomorrow. Why? Did something happen?’_

He screwed his eyes shut. “Mom?”

On his lap Stiles started shaking, biting on an already swollen bottom lip to remain quiet.

_‘Why aren’t you coming? The whole pack is worried!’_ Thank gods the phone was on a low volume.

“Mom, this is not a good-”

_‘Because you always show up and now were worried about you! Is everything okay?’_

“Yes, everything’s fine. Mom, this really isn’t a good-” He inhaled with a gasp, his lungs demanding more oxygen… when a wicked tongue traced the shell of his ear, followed by a sharp nip on his earlobe. The other end went quiet when Derek simply couldn’t hold back a low groan as Stiles rolled his hips against Derek's erection. The Stilinski's leer was nothing if not wicked.

_‘Do… do you have company?’_ came the careful question.

“Yes, I've got company.” he pressed out through gritted teeth. As if he'd fucking answer the phone if he had been masturbating. Stiles sniggered over a sensitive ear, causing shivers to run up and down the Hale’s spine.

_‘Let me talk to him.’_

“I don’t think so.”

_‘Derek.’_

“Mother.”

_‘Either you give him the phone or I'll send your uncle over as soon as he's back from his run.’_

“Here.”

 

The brunet blinked at the phone… and then laughed out loud seeing the look on the other’s features, but he took it because Derek looked positively horrified.

“Ma’am?” he said calmly.

_‘Are you Derek's boyfriend?’_ a voice shot from the hip. _‘He hasn’t said anything about a boyfriend.’_

“That’s the title I'm aiming for, ma’am.” he smiled, putting the phone on speaker. “My name’s Stiles by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, even over the phone.”

_‘Such a polite boy you are, Stiles. Well, you see we've got this tradition of family dinners on weekends and Derek's not coming tomorrow.’_

“That’s because I have every intention of keeping him in bed all weekend, ma’am.” the Stilinski deadpanned. “I may let him go get something to eat… if he's a good boy.” He grinned when Derek shook with mortified laughter.

_‘Why don’t you come, join us for dinner?’_

“I’d love to but that will impose on the already stated plans, ma’am. I want to screw him stupid, ma’am. Please pardon my bad language.”

“Gods, Stiles!” Derek choked on his laughter now. “I won’t be able to show my face at home again!”

“ **Now** you care about propriety? Seriously? 5 minutes ago I thought you'd take me right here on this table!”

“Mom, remember my voice because you're never seeing or hearing from me again.” The beta’s ears and face were burning but he couldn’t stop laughing. “I'm going to Timbuktu. Or possibly Siberia.”

 

Stiles blinked at the silent phone.

“I think we might’ve just given your mother a coronary.”

The wolf only laughed harder, knowing that scenario wasn’t even possible.

“This is going to come back and bite me in the ass, I just know it.”

“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have said that but I blame you, you know? You’ve got your hands down my pants, mister!”

“Oh, sweet mercy! Stiles!”

_‘Stiles?’_ a very careful voice came through the phone. Derek choked because yup, that was his dad. Oh shit. _‘We would be **honoured** if you would come to our family dinner tomorrow. Really, we would **love** to meet you.’_

 

The brunet turned a glare to the shaking Hale.

“How the hell am I supposed to say no to an invitation like that, huh?” he spat.

“Uh…” He couldn’t really press out more he was shaking so hard trying not to crack up again. Instead he took a deep breath, counted to 10 slowly and tried to calm down, somewhat. “We’ll be there, dad.”

_‘Wonderful.’_ the older male said immediately. _‘We’re looking forward to meeting you… Stiles.’_

“Uhm… yeah, me too, sir.” He sighed heavily, pressing closer to his soon-to-be lover. “ **Balls.** Can I at least get cock before we go there?”

A choked sound cracked through the phone.

“Stiles, you didn’t hand up!”

“…I'm so not going.” the Stilinski whined ignoring how Derek positively howled with laughter. “Nuh uh, not a chance in hell.”


	3. Chapter Three

Stiles came to the conclusion that beneath the sweet and shy surface, Derek was a sadistic bastard galore, worthy of prizes. For several reasons. One, _he_ had screwed _Stiles_ stupid in the end, two, he knew he made Stiles horny just by wearing a pair of tight light blue jeans and a white dress shirt and three, he was grinning like he wasn’t fully aware of that Stiles would much rather be anywhere but there. There being the Hale house where he was invited to dinner. Most of Stiles’ blood supply kept circling between his face and ears… especially when a man that was very obviously an older version on Derek came up to him, grinning.

“You must be Stiles.” He held out his hand while the grin grew slightly. “I'm David, Derek's father. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you.” Stiles mumbled, not really able to look the smirking Hale in the face quite yet. “I apologize for whatever you may or may not have heard me saying about, eh, intimate matters over the phone.” But he did accept the hand and shook it firmly. He ignored the snort from his side only to be faced with a rather slender beauty… that looked at him like he was a slab of meat she wanted to sink her teeth into. She elbowed her way up to him and simply pulled him into a tight hug.

“You’re Stiles, you must be Stiles, I've heard quite the interesting things about you already. I'm Laura, Derek's older sister.” she ploughed on, grinning at him from a sudden arms distance. “Well, aren’t you cute like a button. I see why he chose you.”

“Uh… right.”

 

“Laura… what the hell are you doing here?”

The young woman shook her head, rolling her eyes at her sibling and leaned closer to the baffled Stilinski. “See what a horrible brother I've got? I came all the way from San Francisco for this family dinner and he doesn’t appreciate it.”

“Because I know you well enough to you you're up to something.” Derek muttered sourly. He was so going to watch his back all night now that he knew she was here. She was his sister and he loved her dearly but he didn’t trust her for as much as a nickel. Hazel green eyes narrowed at her. “What are you up to?”

His suspicious question earning him a toothy grin. She aimed for innocent and missed by a mile so yeah, he was definitely watching his back.

“Nothing!” she tried assuring him. “I just heard from mom about your boyfriend coming for dinner so of course I came up to meet him!”

“Derek!”

 

The second oldest of the Hale-siblings abruptly lost all colour when he heard the voice calling his name loudly.

“Oh no.” he whimpered, he wasn’t above admitting that, he was whimpering. “Oh no, not-”

“Derek!” Cora literally threw herself at him, coldly expecting him to catch her… which he did because he knew there'd be hell to pay if he let her faceplant on the hardwood floor. “I haven’t seen you in months, you asocial son of a gun! You’ve been hiding from me!”

_‘And for good reason.’_

“Cora, this is Stiles.”

“Hi, I'm Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles pressed out a smile, waving awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

 

She turned her happy grin towards him… and then froze, her eyes widening.

“…Stilinski?” she asked carefully.

“Uh, yeah?”

“As in… G-however-you-pronounce-it _Stilinski_?”

Stiles nodded slowly, oozing discomfort.

“The one and only.” he pressed out with an awkward smile.

“Can I get an autograph?”

Three Hales blinked at her, and then at him, as if they were following a Ping-Pong game.

 

Stiles chuckled lowly, all of a sudden a lot more confident. Obviously, this was something he was used to.

“Sure, just bring whatever you want me to sign and a pen and I'll scribble my name.”

“That’s so nice of you!”

“I always make sure to talk to my fans, what precious few I've got. Excuse me but uhm… where’s the bathroom by the way?”

“Down the hall, second on the left.” Derek replied calmly, earning a nod before the Stilinski once again excused himself and disappeared through the throng of people.

 

Derek had barely lost sight of him before his sister pounced on him.

“Seriously, Derek? Him!? How the hell did you land _Stilinski!?_ ” Cora hissed furiously. “How!?”

“Uh…”

“You don’t know who he is, do you?” she deadpanned.

“Of course I know who he is!” her brother tried valiantly. “He’s Stiles, my boyfriend! The spaz that won’t stop talking!”

“Mhm, he's also one of the world’s most famous concert pianists, you idiot! His hands are insured up to a million dollars so you better be gentle when you fuck him, you hear me!?”

 

Derek didn’t know whether to be horrified for his baby-sister saying something like that in front of their father or for not knowing that he could have potentially hurt a famous pianist’s hands a few hours ago when they had sex in the kitchen and he held Stiles’ wrists.

“He did say he played piano in a band?” he pressed out weakly.

Laura, for once, wasn’t laughing at his horror. “Wow.” She blinked. “He doesn’t really look the part, does he?” she mumbled. “I mean, what with the glasses, the colourful skinny jeans and the motivational t-shirts, there's not really anything there screaming ‘I play classical music like a virtuoso’, is there?”

 

The younger man whimpered lowly. Gods, he was never going to live this one down. Of course, that’s when Stiles came back and four wide stares turned to questioning features. He blinked at them… and then sighed.

“I'm busted, aren’t I?”

“Uh huh.” Derek pressed out eloquently. “You could say that.”

“I did tell you I played the piano.” the Stilinski smiled nervously. “And I said I played in a band.”

“You call a symphony orchestra a ‘band’, Stiles?” David asked curiously. “Really?”

“Well, technically it **is** a band. There just happens to be more instruments and more variety in what we play.” He shrugged. “I've played everything from Schubert to Michael Jackson so why not?”

“We’ve got a piano here, why don’t you play something for us?” Cora grinned happily while the Stilinski squirmed.

“Uhm… sure, yes of cour-”

 

“No.” Derek deadpanned, getting the attention of the others. “Cora, don’t be rude.”

“How am I rude? I just asked him to play-”

“Exactly. Stiles is here as my guest, not for your entertainment. If he wants to play he’ll play but I will not have him feel obliged to do it just because you asked.”

“It’s just music, Derek, and he _is_ a pianist!”

“And I'm just a writer, you want me to _just_ write you a novel? I mean, how hard can it be, right? Or maybe if you meet a chef you'd ask them to _just_ make you something good to eat? Just because someone is good at something, that doesn’t give you the right to just ask them to do that for you. I'm sure that you wouldn’t be too keen on someone asking you for free legal advice just because you happen to know some law.”

“Derek, its fine, I'm used to these-”

“No, it’s not _fine_ , Stiles.” Derek ground out. “I can’t do much about others but I can at least tell my own family not to behave like self-centred people. If you **want** to play then please do but if you feel even a little bit forced, then don’t. You’re supposed to relax here, not perform for us.”

“Eh…” Stiles screwed his eyes shut when three sets of apologetic eyes turned to him, at least that he saw. “Maybe later?” he pressed out, desperately fishing for a new subject. “I uh… was promised food?”

 

That’s when Talia breezed into the conversation, snagged the Stilinski by an arm and dragged him to the kitchen where he was to tell her everything about how he wanted his meat. Behind her she left her three children, one glaring and two sulking, and a silent sheepish mate… along with all the awkward Betas that had been listening in on the exchange.

 

-

 

“Wow, this is so good, Mrs Hale! You really do know your meat!”

“Talia is fine, dear. I'm happy you liked it.” she smiled sweetly.

Stiles glanced to the side discreetly. “At least mine is cooked.”

Peter only grinned and put a rosy piece of steak in his mouth causing a shudder to run down the younger man’s spine. Across the table Derek rolled his eyes. Out of the entire family he was the only one, apart from the occasional human, that actually liked his meat well done. Either he ate it raw, usually while shifted, or well done, no in-between thank you. His mother though, had the perfect chance to ask her questions now and she fully intended to take it.

 

“So, Stiles… may I ask how you ended up playing the piano? I have three children and not one of them had any interest whatsoever in music I'm sad to say. They sing off key all of them, including my husband here.”

Sniggers erupted from around the table at the indignant huffs that followed but Stiles only chuckled.

“Well, my mom used to play the piano and she taught me and when she passed away I sort of continued out of obligation until I realised I actually liked it.”

“Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago and she's with me every time I play.” he smiled.

Talia nodded while sipping her wine. “What about sports? Do you have any interest in sports or was it all music for you from the get-go?”

 

“Actually, I wanted to play lacrosse when I was a kid but that kind of contact sport didn’t mix well with my uh… illness, I guess. I've got a weak heart and a too hard tackle would probably have killed me so piano it was.” Stiles grinned at her not noticing how every person in the room suddenly tensed. “Let’s just say that I stay indoors on Halloween and I avoid horror movies.”

“So… you take medication for your… condition?” Talia asked carefully. A glance at her son told her that he definitely hadn’t known about that little hiccup… and telling Stiles about wolves suddenly became a whole different can of worms. He could literally be scared to death. Even Peter, the perpetual trickster, looked uncertain now. There wasn’t a wolf in there that didn’t suddenly focus on the pitter-patter in Stiles’ chest… just in case.

 

“Yeah, I take pills and I always have some with me in case of emergencies and stuff so I'm good.”

“But what about when you play?” Cora asked lowly. “I mean, isn’t it straining with some of the more intense pieces? I've heard you play and it’s got to be taxing to get through some of those concerts… right?”

“Yeah, but I'm not _that_ weak and I take medication before the performance, there’re more pauses so I can calm down and there're always medics waiting backstage in case something happens so no worries.” the Stilinski offered her a grin. “I won’t keel over from a little pressure, it’s the sudden hits and shocks that are the triggers.”

“That means you have to be gentle with him between the sheets, nephew.” Peter said conversationally. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt the only person who's willing to put out for you.”

“Only person?” Stiles cut in before Derek could even begin to say anything. “How doesn’t he get all the ass he wants with a face like that?”

 

Completely ignoring his humiliated relative, including the sniggering and smirking ones, Peter turned a wide grin to the young man next to him.

“That’s what I've always wondered, Stiles. He's a handsome young man, my nephew, but for some reason he hasn’t really succeeded in the dating game. I can’t even begin to imagine what he did to meet someone like you.”

“Actually it was my fault, I spilt my coffee on him and basically ran his ass over.” Stiles blushed prettily. “I have this bad habit of talking a lot when I'm nervous and he didn’t really get a word in edgewise so uhm, yeah, I'm a bit of an acquired taste. He opened up to me nicely though in the end.”

“Oh, I'm sure he did.”

“Peter!”

“Uncle!”

Stiles didn’t seem fazed by the blatant innuendo though, rather, he could give as good as he got.

“I prefer being the bottom, that way I can just lie there and enjoy the ride so to speak.” His smile turned slightly dreamy. “And boy did I enjoy last night.”

As the others laughed, Derek sat there, with a burning face, wondering whether he should feel humiliated or start preening.

 

-

 

“Wow. That’s got to be one of the more awkward dinners I've ever been to.” Stiles mumbled once they were finally moving towards the car. “I mean, your uncle is probably one of the creepiest people I've ever come across and your sister Laura scares my testicles back into hiding but I really like your mom, she's nice, and your dad’s got the patience of an angel with a family like that.”

Inside the house Derek heard his family laugh at Laura's indignant huff. He chuckled.

“What can I say more than sorry for springing this on you so soon?”

“Am I caught off guard, oh yes I am, am I angry at you for bringing me to see your family?” Stiles smiled. “Not so much. Just wait until you meet my old man, he's the sheriff you know? He’ll pull the whole worried overprotective father-act on you, probably along with one version of gun threat or another.”

“Okay, now I'm scared.” And yet Derek was excited… because meeting the parents, or parent in this case, meant serious business. However, there was still the issue with telling Stiles about werewolves and do it in a way where he didn’t get hurt in the process.

“Can I go to your place?” the Stilinski asked after a few minutes of silent driving. “My place is-… well, depressing since I don’t spend that much time there, and you're warm sleeping next to.” He sounded surprisingly insecure all of a sudden. “I mean, if that’s okay? I don’t want to intrude or anything!”

“No, it’s okay. I want you to feel at home with me, Stiles.”

 

Little did Stiles know that if Derek had been shifted he'd curl up on himself and whimper with delight. He wanted to wrap himself around the younger man, wrap him in warmth and keep him safe and sound. He wanted Stiles with him always. The soft smile he earned had his stomach filling with butterflies on speed.

“Thank you.”

When they got back to the apartment Derek would clear out a drawer and give Stiles the spare key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work work. Real life got in the away… along with other stories. No worries though, I'll definitely work on this one, albeit at a slower tempo. Also, I'm not a physician in any shape or form so I've taken some liberties with Stiles’ condition. I did my research but nothing really fitted the way I wanted so for those of you who are House M.D., please cut me some slack. It’s all in the name of fiction :) Also, I cant actually remember if I've proofed this or not |D


	4. Chapter Four

Derek… was in heaven, in seventh heaven actually. He had given Stiles that drawer and that spare key… and Stiles had proceeded to pretty much invade Derek's apartment and make it his. He had filled the drawer with underwear and logoed shirts and plaid, he had sneakily claimed a few hangers in the closet too, two pairs of his shoes were in the hallways, his laptop had seemingly come to stay on the sofa table, his cell phone charger was almost always found on the night table and he had plugged in his game console. And that’s not mentioning the bathroom where you could find everything from his shaving cream, his contact lenses with all the accompanying paraphernalia, hair gel, hair brush, cologne and toothbrush. His scent was as thick in the apartment as Derek's own was. Not to mention, rather than going to the coffee shop, most mornings they stayed in to enjoy breakfast and coffee together. Stiles had essentially moved in.

 

“Hey, Derek?”

“Mhm?” Derek's inspiration had shot through the roof since their relationship had started and more than once he had woken up in the middle of the night with an idea or a scene or a character that he just had to write out before he forgot about it.

“I've got a gig at one of the jazz clubs this weekend.” Stiles smiled at him from over the back of the couch. He was tooth-rottingly adorable with that grey beanie he favoured along with the thick black rimmed glasses he wore when he was too lazy to deal with contacts. “It’s gonna be me and a few friends just jammin’, why don’t you come and listen? Bring your family too, they wanted to hear me play, right? I'll reserve a table for you.”

“You’d do that?” Derek blinked at his lover, earning a low chuckle.

“Of course! Easy peasy.”

“I'll ask them if they want to come.”

 

-

 

Turns out… the Hales _did_ want to come. His parents were there, almost giddy with the prospect of going out and listening to music, Laura and Cora were there, the latter having literally thrown a fit when she realised she’d have to reschedule other plans to make it, and Peter and his wife were there. Derek had no idea how he had ended up with the entire main family of the Hale-pack present. Sighing he walked up to the doorman, ahead of the actually very long queue, and said his name. The man looked at him, eyeing his family sceptically, found Derek's name… and suddenly flashed him a wide grin.

“Derek Hale with company, yes, go right ahead in, sir. Just say your name to the guys in the bar and they’ll show you to your table.”

“Thank you.”

 

A minute later the wolves were more than a little stunned. They had expected this to be some smoky jazz joint where they'd have to endure loud talking and the stench of booze. That wasn’t the case at all. The club was classy and elegant with comfortable stuffed furniture, dim lighting and waitresses and waiters wearing a bowtie. They were shown upstairs, obviously the VIP section, to the table closest to the balcony with a perfect view of the stage and the tables below. The couch was L-shaped, soft and smelled faintly of detergent. A few small candles adorned the table along with a little bowl of floating flowers. The walls held old framed posters for jazz gigs mixed with modern art and all in all, it wasn’t so surprising why there was a long line of people waiting outside.

 

Once they had ordered their drinks and some snacks they all looked around curiously.

“I must say,” Peter grinned. “I am pleasantly surprised. “They don’t even allow smoking inside.”

Cora was vibrating in her seat at that point and Derek wasn’t the only one silently relieved that she couldn’t get drunk to begin with.

“I'm sure he plays in worse places than this because he smelled like a chimney once when he came home.”

“ _Home_ , huh?” Laura's grin was every bit wolfish. “So… your apartment is home to the little human now, hm?”

Derek's ears felt hot when he growled at her. “What of it? I've been to his apartment and students live in luxury compared to that cubby hole.” he muttered. “I'm thinking about asking him to move in with me.”

“Have you told him about us yet, dear?” Talia asked carefully. “It’s probably for the best if you wait with the joined living until you’ve told him about our family first.”

Derek swallowed hard. Yeah, he had kind of forgotten about that… or not forgotten as much as avoided thinking about. He had pushed that so far ahead of him it was a small miracle he had remembered it at all.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “You’re right.” He _had_ conveniently forgotten just how frail Stiles actually was when it came to physical health, only in bed did he remember where he made damn sure to be careful and not too rough.

 

Whatever he was going to say more he forgot though when the light dimmed even more and musicians took to the stage. The Hales grinned and waved when Stiles walked up and claimed the grand piano, glancing up to see if they were there. He grinned and waved back. A nice blush graced usually pale cheeks when the others on stage laughed and Stiles calmly took the mic in front of him.

“Don’t mind them, guys.” he quipped winking at the people in the dark. “They’re bullying the talented kid.”

“Hardly.” a blonde beauty with a mean rack grinned into her own microphone. “We’re merely showing our support for the one of us that’s desperate to make a good impression on his hopefully soon to be in-laws and was so nervous he nearly threw up an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Erica.” the Stilinski grimaced, earning laughter from the audience. He very pointedly didn’t look up towards the balcony again. “That kind of bombed the impression I tried to make, really, thank you.”

“Any time, love.” Erica smiled sweetly. She was absolutely stunning in a dress that would've made Jessica Rabbit green of envy. “Now, let’s get this show on the road, shall we? Welcome to tonight’s gig and I hope you'll all enjoy your evening.”

And with that the big band started and soon the sound of _‘Move On Up’_ filled the club.

 

It was obvious that the people on stage had an absolute blast together. They played popular jazz classics, they played jazzified songs of everything from pop to rock, took requests here and there, laughed together and played. There was a large guy playing the trumpet and saxophone like an absolute god and he grinned at the Stilinski when Stiles dared him to play _‘Papa Was A Rolling Stone’_. He did play it and damn did he play it well. Afterwards Stiles clapped his hands as much as the audience did.

“My man, Boyd, people. Give him another round of applause because there's nothing he can’t play I tell you!”

After that a young man with the smoothest voice they had ever heard came out to sing. He smiled almost shyly during _‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’_ , running a hand through golden curls while blue eyes glittered. In a flash half the female amount of spectators fell for a pretty face, a sinful voice and a talent for the contrabass.

 

When Stiles suddenly started playing on a song no one caught on what it was besides the guy on drums. He grinned but the Stilinski was focused on playing, his eyes open just a shard as he rocked to the rhythm.

“What is the name of that song?” Cora frowned slightly, trying to place it. She had been inching closer and closer to the balcony railing ever since the show started. Now she was hanging over it.

“Song of the Volga Boatmen.” Peter said softly. He was sitting with his eyes closed, nodding to the rhythm, his foot twitching along. “Not the Glenn Miller-crap version though, no, this is Jan Johansson's version.” He smiled over his gin and tonic. “I have to give it to him, the kid is fantastic.”

“If I put a piano in the apartment, you think he'd play?” Derek asked lowly, more focused on his lover because Stiles was nothing if not a showman. He didn’t even have to be the main focus of any particular song and still he enthralled the audience, Derek included. He was absolutely breath-taking down there and his hands… it was almost obscene how fast and nimble they were. And Derek knew just how they felt on his body.

“Of course he will!” Laura grinned, putting another fry in her mouth. She was so coming back to this place because food, drink _and_ fantastic music? Priceless. “He’ll probably drive you crazy after a while with it. We all know you like your peace and quiet, brother mine.”

 

A couple of songs later the gig was coming to an end, it was getting late after all, and that’s when Stiles took the mic again, turning towards the audience on the piano stool.

“Well, it’s time for the last piece for the night,” he smiled happily, tipping the trilby on his head back a bit. “And you know how sometimes when you really like someone, or love someone,” He blushed prettily, earning catcalls from the dark. “You start to associate a song with that particular person? Like how I can’t help hearing _‘Mercy’_ whenever Lydia is around.”

A loud ‘and don’t you forget it!’ from the bar had everybody laughing out loud while the Stilinski theatrically winced and scratched the back of his neck. “A bit like Erica probably hears _‘Big Black-’_ ”

The audience laughed again when a very shrilling honk came from a trumpet somewhere, drowning out whatever Stiles had said next. The Stilinski himself had the grace to look appropriately sheepish, earning another round of laughter. “Yeah, uhm, where was I? Anyways, songs. There's this one song I always hear in my mind whenever a really important person to me is around and I think this is a great way to end a fantastic evening. Derek, love, this is for you.”

 

Cora swallowed hard only a moment after Stiles had turned back to the piano and started playing. She wasn’t the only one turning to Derek who looked positively sucker punched.

“Derek.” she pressed out. “That’s ‘ _Clair de Lune’_ by Claude Debussy.”

“Moonlight.” he murmured, staring at the man below, looking so _serene_ while playing the piano, for _him_ … and not knowing he was breaking Derek open.

“You’ll have to tell him.” Peter said, his voice soft while watching his nephew steadily. “Do you want us to be there when you do?”

The younger man swallowed hard and shook his head. “No.” he rasped. “I'll do it alone. Having all of us there will probably scare him even more than just seeing me will.”

No one really said anything after that, they just sat there, listening in silence to Stiles’ music.

 

-

 

Stiles couldn’t but notice the tension in his lover’s shoulders. Derek had been tense after the gig, during the greetings and hugs from his family and the closer they got to his apartment the tenser he had become. It had to be painful by now. Stiles didn’t like where this was going. He swallowed hard when they entered the apartment and toed off their shoes.

“Look, if this is about me playing a love song for you, I'm sorry. I didn’t know it would upset you.” he pressed out, having a really bad feeling about all this. He had hoped it wasn’t too soon for love-declarations because Stiles had fallen and he had fallen hard for the Hale. He swallowed hard again when Derek suddenly turned to him and just stared at him. “Please don’t throw me out.” he whispered.

 

Derek mentally winced when he heard Stiles’ heart pick up speed. Quickly he stepped up to the smaller man and wrapped him up in his arms, holding him as tightly as he dared.

“I love you, Stiles.” he pressed out desperately. “But I have something I have to tell you… about me. Something important.”

Frowning slightly but calmer now the Stilinski looked up to meet hazel green eyes.

“Important?” The pale features frowned even more. “Are you sick? Do you need a doctor? Is that it? Or you used to be a woman? I don’t care if you're trans.” He blinked, blankness suddenly wiping all emotions off his face. “You’re straight, aren’t you? You experimented with bumsex but have come to the conclusion that you're straight after all. Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that excuse.”

“No!” Derek burst, momentarily stunned by the ridiculous conclusions his lover immediately jumped to. He took a deep breath… and met whiskey coloured eyes. “Stiles, I want you to remember that I'll _never_ hurt you, I _love_ you _so much_ and I want you _always_.” he pressed out seriously, making sure he was taken seriously.

“…okay?” came the unsure answer. “That’s good?”

“Where’s your heart medication?”

“I've got it right here.”

 

“Good.” Derek nodded, stepping aside for a bit. “Good.” He pushed the couch aside to leave more room by the large windows in the loft, turned off all lights to leave only the moon as their light source and unlocked the door to the apartment. He figured he looked a lot scarier in bad light and strong light than he did in no light and if Stiles decided to run he wanted him to have all the escape routes he needed and wanted.

“Derek, you're scaring me.”

This was it, it was time to reveal who and what he really was.

Without a word Derek took his clothes off, let them fall where they may, caught and held the stunned honey coloured gaze… and shifted. A few moments later a large black wolf stood where there had been a man.

 

Derek whimpered when that precious heartbeat shot through the roof at the same time as Stiles backpedalled and crashed into the bookshelf behind him, big eyes wide at the beast before him. He wheezed for air, never letting the animal go with his gaze once, not for as much as a second, while trying to push backwards to get further away.

 

Derek didn’t move closer, instead he laid down on his paws, trying to make himself as small as possible, whining when the stench of fear and distress hit his sensitive nose. Glowing yellow eyes watched him sadly, begging him silently to calm down while pale hands frantically reached for a bottle of pills in his pocket and threw two in his mouth without water. Stiles swallowed them dry where he sat, still eyeing the wolf nervously, seeing he made no effort to come closer.

 

A good while later, neither of them knew how long really and neither cared either, he had calmed down enough to be out of the danger zone, albeit not enough to move anywhere. Stiles’ mind was more than making up for that though.

“Wolf.” he rasped hoarsely. “You’re-… you're a _werewolf_?”

Derek nodded slowly, whining lowly again. He hadn’t changed back, he didn’t know why but his wolf hadn’t wanted him to. In any other case he would've flashed his eyes, showed some fang, maybe a little bit of claws _first_ , but this time he had gone all out and turned into his full wolf-form. He really didn’t know why he had done that, especially considering the risks involved for his lover. He just had.

“Wow, I guess that would explain the constant sniffing, dude.”

The wolf snorted because really, who else but Stiles to say something like that to a werewolf? Thankfully though, his heart rate was going down and while he was definitely very much nervous, he wasn’t terrified anymore.

 

“Can-… can you understand me?” came the next careful question, earning another nod. They both blinked when the human slowly reached out a hand towards the wolf. Slowly Derek rose to his paws and moved over the hardwood floor, claws clicking audibly and his tail tucked between his legs. He kept his belly close to the floor, still trying to make his rather massive bulk seem smaller than it really was, a wet cold nose reaching the pale slightly trembling fingers first, followed by a very careful lick. It earned him a small smile and curious fingertips scratching through thick black fur. So very slowly he moved closer… until the black wolf lay on the floor between spread legs. He let his lover explore him, almost giddy now, let glorious hands stroke and caress him, over the thick fur of his neck, behind soft ears, down the sides of his face, while that smile steadily grew bigger. Derek was in heaven.

“I've never seen a wolf before other than in pictures.” Stiles murmured. “You’re beautiful.” And then he leaned down… and stroked his cheek against Derek's, scent marking without being aware. Derek couldn’t handle any more.

 

Whiskey brown eyes blinked when fur receded, leaving only soft warm skin behind. “Oh.”

“I'm sorry I scared you.” Derek rasped. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” he murmured, inhaling Stiles’ scent with every breath of air. “It’s just-… I had to tell you, be honest with you.” He swallowed hard when he looked up and hazel green met warm brown. “It’s because I love you as much as I do that I want you to know what I am. I understand if you want to go back to your place… or end this.”

He was terrified of that prospect, he really was.

“Well, you're right in that I have a lot to think about.” Stiles answered lowly. “But you said you'd never hurt me, right?”

“Never.” Derek replied immediately. “No matter which form I'm in, I'll never hurt you.”

He blinked when pale hands gently cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing cheekbones softly. Stiles was smiling.

“Then I'm not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, yeah… I’m going somewhere with this, I promise. I’ll be adding tags as I go.  
> Also, I'm fully aware Stiles would usually use netspeak for texts but seriously, I can’t. I don’t know how to so you'll have to make do with somewhat proper English instead.
> 
> I do NOT give permission to have any of my works put up on Goodreads or any other such site.


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